


Moonlight

by gloomyqueliot



Category: The Witcher (TV), Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
Genre: Fluff, Jaskier is tired, M/M, One Shot, Short & Sweet, Sleep Deprivation, geralt is SOFT
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-25
Updated: 2020-01-25
Packaged: 2021-02-25 14:28:38
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 763
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22397662
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gloomyqueliot/pseuds/gloomyqueliot
Summary: Tired Jaskier is tired.(Or, Jaskier's falling alseep on Roach and Geralt is surprisingly soft abt it)
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion
Comments: 16
Kudos: 727





	Moonlight

The silence surrounding them is a comfortable one, interrupted only by the sound of Roach’s hooves against the trail of tightly-packed earth. The air is much chiller at night, a slight breeze nipping at  Jaskier’s skin as they ride. On any other given night, he and the Witcher would find themselves tucked away at an inn; or, if coin and towns were few and far between, simply camped out about a fire in the middle of the woods. However, Geralt had insisted on travelling through the night to more quickly reach the town a  little ways north that was apparently dealing with a rather urgent monster-related issue.

Geralt was used to the lack of sleep; years of travelling alone had forced him to prioritize vigilance over exhaustion, and he took on the all-night journey with ease. The same couldn’t be said for the bard, who had yawned approximately thirteen times in the last ten minutes. 

It was hardly  Jaskier’s fault, as up until now his daily routine had a considerably less amount of fleeing and chasing. Coupling that with his plainly human body, the Witcher had come to make some reasonable exceptions to his travelling policies. One of those exceptions had been his  _ no-bards-on-the-horse  _ rule; one night in particular,  Jaskier had been trailing contently behind  Geralt and Roach, humming along idly to a lute-plucked tune. It took Geralt almost 50 yards to realize the music had stopped and his bard was slumped over in a heap on the edge of the trail. The bard could ride the horse, then.

And the bard did ride the horse, caged in by the Witcher’s arms as he held loosely onto the reins. It wasn’t the most dignified position to travel in, as Jaskier once commented. But such as the bard could ride the horse, the bard could also fall off of the horse, as proven multiple times when an exhausted Jaskier drifted off and found himself toppling off the back of Roach which a jarring  _ thump. _ The first time it happened,  Jaskier swore he caught the smallest of chuckles from  Geralt , but perhaps the sleeplessness had been making him hear things. 

Geralt watched in pity as the bard let slip another yawn, his head dipping forwards and lolling side to side in time with Roach’s steps. He snapped himself out of it a moment later, sitting up straight as if nothing had happened.  Geralt let him repeat the action four more times before finally speaking up.

“ Jaskier ...” the bard flinched at the sudden noise behind him but hummed in acknowledgement. “You need to rest.”  Jaskier shifted in front of him, giving his head a shake before mumbling a response,

“ Mmfine , not even tired. Can’t let this view go to waste, now can I?” The view in question was the barely-moonlit dirt path ahead of them, with barren fields of patchy-greenery on either side.  Geralt rolled his eyes at the stubbornness of his companion, but didn’t press further. 

Jaskier busied himself with counting the stars that dotted the horizon ahead of them. He started with a particularly bright one, and attempted to work his way outward. He lost track after four, and tried again five more times. He didn’t appreciate the way his brain was betraying him, but couldn’t put up much of a protest.  Jaskier looked up then, hoping the glow from the moon might awaken his tired eyes. Much to his dismay, the second he cocked his head upwards, his vision began to swirl and he felt himself slip backwards involuntarily.  Geralt grunted as the back of bard’s head collided with his chest; they stayed liked that for a moment before  Jaskier began to pull away. 

“ _ Jaskier _ _ ,”  _ Geralt breathed the name in annoyance as he dropped one of the reins in favour of caging the other man against him. “ _ Sleep.” _

It wasn’t a question so much as an order, and  Jaskier knew that. Regardless, he was powerless against the iron bar around his middle and didn’t fight it when his head, weighing at least one-hundred pounds, came to rest against the Witcher’s shoulder.  Jaskier signed in relief, finally relaxing into the  Geralt -shaped pillow behind him. For once he didn’t hear said pillow grunt in protest, or shake off the bard’s contact. He allowed  Jaskier to close his eyes, never releasing the grip on his waist (for safety precautions only,  Geralt reasoned). 

Roach’s gentle trots lulled  Jaskier into a long-awaited slumber, and before the world turned dark, he could’ve sworn he heard a gravelly voice whisper, “ _ Goodnight,  _ _ Jaskier _ _.” _

He probably imagined that, too, he thought. 

**Author's Note:**

> I fully did not edit this or even re-read it, and ironically I've been trying not to fall asleep while finishing it. So if u start reading pure shite, don't be surprised.


End file.
